Howdy stranger: G is for Gastr del Sol
(Introduction provided here.)
Gastr del Sol resides on the shelf between Gang of Four’s Entertainment! and Giddy Motors’ Make It Pop.
Before the days of current freak-folkers like Devendra Banhart and post-rockers like Grand Ulena or Volta Do Mar, there was a trio of Chicago labels that released the best and brightest of the Louisville music scene, from Slint and Rodan to Palace and today’s subject, Gastr del Sol. This group was the chicken that hatched the egg. And Gastr del Sol was most definitely the strangest and most abstract of the bunch, which might explain why I don’t feel compelled to listen to their records today.
That’s no knock on the three albums I still own—Crookt, Crackt, or Fly; Mirror Repair; and Upgrade & Afterlife. But, if there’s a single soul out there that owns three Gastr del Sol records and feels compelled to return to them on a regular basis, please stand up. The group is a fascinating listen, but their songs are like fractured limbs that haven't healed correctly—their use is limited and they're sore on the eyes. The end result is a collection of work that, while engaging, is also confrontational and certainly not the easiest of listens. Since I haven't listened to any of these albums in a while, I'm going to revisit all three.
But first, a little more background on Gastr del Sol. The group began as David Grubbs’ project, and he fielded a host of session musicians including Tortoise’s John McEntire and Bundy K. Brown. But for all practical purposes, after the release of the band’s first album, the group consisted solely of songwriters Grubbs and fellow oddball Jim O’Rourke. Both were accomplished musicians in their own right. Grubbs got his start in the seminal Squirrel Bait during the mid-‘80s. They jumpstarted the Louisville music scene that would soon spawn Slint, taking post-hardcore to a new level in the process. He later performed with Bastro and Bitch Magnet before turning his focus to Gastr del Sol. O’Rourke was a member of both Brise-Glace, the incredibly abrasive and bizarre post-hardcore group, and Gastr del Sol in the early-to-mid-‘90s. O’Rourke later went on to release some noteworthy solo recordings after Gastr del Sol split, and most recently collaborated with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy in the group Loose Fur.
While Gastr del Sol combined electronic elements like tape manipulations and a massive array of effects pedals, they also utilized traditional instruments like acoustic guitar and piano to a large degree. Their sonic explorations could best be described as nonsensical, often-improvised affairs that spent a good deal of time obsessed with tones, patterns, and loosely defined “riffs”. If that fails to resonate with you, don’t worry. The music is mostly better than the words I can come up with to describe it.
Crookt, Crackt, or Fly
We’ll begin chronologically with Crookt, Crackt, or Fly, which was released in 1994 on Drag City, the same home as the other two albums. It begins with “Wedding in the Park," one of Grubbs’ usual suspects—a brief, idiosyncratic acoustic song that goes absolutely nowhere in a minute. It features a common trait for Grubbs, too—his poetic rambling, which often shadows the odd structure of his compositions.
I arrived too late for a wedding in the park.
The had already
taken one another’s name
& fixed them in solution.
The guests had all
cleft a lean trail.
Names are for whom easier than faces?
Mountebank or sciolist.
Huh?
“Work from Smoke” is a 13-minute epic and probably the album’s most engaging composition. Highlighting the superb guitar-playing of Grubbs and O’Rourke, who can both work over an acoustic guitar with the best of ‘em, “Work from Smoke” really is the blueprint for a lot of Gastr del Sol’s work. Instead of wasting my breath describing it, I’ll leave it to Ned Raggett and excerpt his write-up for Allmusic:
Anyone expecting, say, the fluid genre hopping of John Fahey or the more abrupt but still uncategorizable leaps of the Sun City Girls will find Crookt a different experience. Generally, there are abrupt, quick chord runs or soft, repetitive figures, often with plenty of pauses, over which Grubbs and O'Rourke do or don't quietly sing, as the mood takes them.
If you can imagine having the portion of your brain that attempts to make sense of sounds, that categorizes and identifies with notes and files away that information for future reference, being tugged in 20 different directions in the course of but one song, that is what “Work from Smoke” accomplishes. Disorienting, check mate. Spooky, unfamiliar and downright disconcerting, most definitely. The only portion of the song that remains consistent for longer than a couple minutes is a howling, ringing soundscape that reminds me of the creaking hull of a submerged luxury liner.
Why not follow that up with a dirty little piano ditty before segueing back into a lengthy acoustic guitar composition? “Every Five Miles” is full of abrupt, ferocious, frantic fretboard runs that eventually dissolve in your eardrums like a steady warm rain beating down on a helpless snowman.
After another shorter, beheaded blues number, Gastr del Sol strap on electric guitars for rowdy stomp that revisits Squirrel Bait territory. McEntire joins the duo on drums as all three reek havoc for a minute and change. “The C in Cake” (a humorous reference to McEntire’s more popular and accessible project), is a mostly mellow affair that utilizes silence and an eerie soundscape to cause the listener to feel uneasy.
The album closes with the 15-minute marathon that is “The Wrong Soundings.” A boisterous, amplified, electric affair complete with drums introduces the song before we’re set drift through minutes of empty sound. Eventually, we reconvene in a Rodan-like dirge that eventually deconstructs itself before transitioning into a lengthy, repetitive discourse between electric guitars and drums. It’s hardly easy on the ears, and predates the noise we've come to expect from both Yona Kit and U.S. Maple. And that, folks, is Crookt, Crackt, or Fly.
Mirror Repair
By comparison, Mirror Repair is like a walk in the park. Released less than a year later, this EP features shorter compositions that, while still unpredictable, are at least easier to swallow. The brevity of the songs also places more emphasis on Grubb’s arcane lyrics. How he came up with this, I don’t know:
Who?
Relieves You?
That a raccoon ate the first.
Ate eight digits followed by a gland.
Ate four pair of knuckles dragging one swollen testicle.
The zoo was skeptical.
Bookended are the EP's two lengthier songs, “Eight Corners” and “Dictionary of Handwriting.” The first features some saccharine piano doodling colored at times by sonic bleeps and burps. The overall effect is, actually, pleasing to the ear. Meanwhile, “Dictionary of Handwriting” features an electric guitar hook that fans of Polvo would probably think was pretty alright. McEntire joins on drums again as the song digresses into a more dense mixture of acoustic and electric guitars coupled with tape manipulation. The mess melds itself back onto the original riff as the guitars are sent into a panicked rumble that probably sounds close to what vertigo actually feels like. The song then takes a full minute to unwind itself, as guitars run out of steam before being suddenly silenced.
Upgrade & Afterlife
Released in 1996, Upgrade & Afterlife was the next-to-last album for Gastr del Sol. About the time of its release, I saw the group for the first and only time in Chicago at the Congress Theater in an excellent bill that included The For Carnation, Shellac and Dianogah. On this record, the duo’s appreciation for the works of John Fahey became all the more obvious. (They spent some banter time in concert singing his praises, which eventually led me to purchase some of his work.) On this record, they cover “Dry Bones in the Valley (I Saw the Light Come Shining ‘Round and ‘Round),” which Fahey recorded in 1975. (For those of you unfamiliar with the late Fahey, read this.)
The albums begins with the ethereal “Our Exquisite Replica of ‘Eternity’,” with takes the spaghetti western genre in a whole new otherworldly direction. “Rebecca Sylvester” returns us to common ground, featuring a fairly tame acoustic guitar progression that Grubbs talk-sings over the top of. As a twist, the song’s coda is a melodic lullaby of the lyric “Why did the sharks watch him drown?”
“The Sea Uncertain” combines the whistle of a tea kettle with Grubbs’ plodding piano lines and a mix-match of random static noise. That’s child’s play compared to “Hello Spiral,” which ups the ante several times over with bursts of squelching noise. The noise dissipates to allow the “song” to begin. Another of Grubb’s typical acoustic vignettes gives way to the bulk of the composition, which focuses once again on repetitive interplay between electric guitars and drums before climaxing with the infusion of more static manipulation.
The highlight of the album is the Fahey cover. Not to take away from the grandness of O’Rourke and Grubbs’ original work, but Fahey’s composition is simply too rich in depth and melody to not prevail. It easily distances itself from the balance of the album, which is probably why they chose it as the closer. The duo are such fine musicians, a feat that can go unnoticed thanks to the strangeness of their compositions. However, in this more straightforward (and that could only be said by comparison) Fahey blues composition, their ability to milk the guitars for all their worth is entirely evident. Having not heard the original, I can’t vouch for how warped their cover is. But, the addition of avant-garde composer Tony Conrad on violin adds a delightfully hypnotic element to the song as it stretches its legs around the six minute mark with a wandering, droning passage that explores different tones before wrapping up at twelve minutes.
I have to say that after this initial review of all three albums, I enjoy Crookt the least, despite a few highlights. And, while I think I could part with Upgrade & Afterlife, I think it’s the most realized of the trio. Mirror Repair is definitely the most accessible. So, I think I’ll give them each another spin in the near future, and likely sell Crookt. That is, if—and that’s a big if—I can find a taker.
N/P—Joanna Newsom, The Milk-Eyed Mender
I love Mirror Repair and Upgrade & Afterlife...I'd listen to em more if I didn't have 7000+ LPs, y'know, shit just gets lost in the shuffle. I don't believe I have Crookt Crakt or Fly anymore. Didn't like it quite as much.
Did you ever hear their last record, Camofleur, though? That one is by far my favorite, and I think, their most essential record. It's easy on the ears, more akin to an O'Rourke solo joint than anything else.
My advice: sell off Crookt & pick up Camofleur.
By 
Jonathan Wright, at 1:03 PM
1:03 PMI love Mirror Repair and Upgrade & Afterlife...I'd listen to em more if I didn't have 7000+ LPs, y'know, shit just gets lost in the shuffle. I don't believe I have Crookt Crakt or Fly anymore. Didn't like it quite as much.
Did you ever hear their last record, Camofleur, though? That one is by far my favorite, and I think, their most essential record. It's easy on the ears, more akin to an O'Rourke solo joint than anything else.
My advice: sell off Crookt & pick up Camofleur.